


old haunts are for forgotten ghosts

by mollivanders



Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-29
Updated: 2011-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s starting to wonder just how many clubs Gilbert knew back in the 80s, and she tries not to think of how much older he is than her. At least, he was when they were both living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	old haunts are for forgotten ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> **Title: old haunts are for forgotten ghosts**  
>  Fandom: Being Human (UK)  
> Rating: PG  
> Characters: Annie/Gilbert  
> Author's Note: For at her Halloween prompt-a-thon. Prompt - old haunts. Title from the Gaslight Anthem song of the same name. AU for Season 1. Word Count - 606.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

She’s starting to wonder just how many clubs Gilbert knew back in the 80s, and she tries not to think of how much older he is than her. At least, he was when they were both living.

She supposes that doesn’t count anymore.

Now his cold lips are just as dead as hers, and in the bustle of living things they tangle, try to pick up spare heat as he pulls Annie against him. There’s a whiff of gin on his breath and she catches at his mouth again, trying to taste it (tastes him, all echoes and deep sounds and the promise that she won’t be alone tonight).

(She’s heard whispers that the powers are angry – not with Gilbert, but with her. For having him stay.  
Hears them now.)

“Take me somewhere new,” she asks, and Gilbert grins, pulls a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it, appraising her.

“Bored already?” he asks and Annie slips her fingers through his, heads for the door.

“Yes,” she says, tossing her hair, and he follows her easily. “So bored.”

“There’s a library I used to go to,” he says, breathing against her neck, and Annie shivers, turns to face him (he kisses her suddenly and she breathes in smoke, the tangy scent of tobacco making her eyes smart and she can’t breathe. There’s too much to him, sometimes, for a man who’s so above it all).

Though that’s probably not the cigarettes.

“Take me to the library then,” she says, pulling back. “Anything but more of your awful music,” she adds, joking, though it doesn’t faze him. He never stops looking at her and she drinks it in. It’s different, this kind of power. She never had any before, with –

“How about some place else?” she says, changing her mind, and Gilbert laughs. “Some place loud.”

“What’d you have in mind?” he asks.

(Annie has no place from before that she wants to go. The little pink house is all she has. Her mum and dad hurt too much and all the other places are filled with ghosts.)

“London,” she says (grips his hand and they jump). She lands gasping, still new at this, and Gilbert watches until she steadies.

(He never tries to save her. Guess he thinks she doesn’t need to be saved, not by him.)

It’s raining, though, and Annie reaches up to catch some, but it falls right through her, and Gilbert reaches for her hand, turns her in a circle closer, closer to him. London swims around them and Annie wishes, just for a moment, someone else could see her. He’s not warm, not really, but he’s solid against her and Annie leans back, lets him spin her out and back to him.

(And still, she hears them, warning of retribution, of men of the cloth and vengeance.)

“We could see the world,” he says quietly, and Annie knows they won’t. “Find others.” Wishes he couldn’t read her mind. There’s George and Mitchell to look after, and the world’s always ending for them.

(There aren’t enough ghosts in the world to make up for that kind of loss.)

“Not tonight,” she intimates, spots another pulsing club and pulls him along. “I bet this’s changed since your day.”

“Not for the better,” he gripes, looks down at her. “Guess we could change that.”

(She chases after him, plays with the sound system and revels for just a night in being a ghost, a poltergeist to the world. Gilbert breaks down and follows after her, agreeing that at the least Ke$ha should be stopped at all costs.)

The whispers can wait til tomorrow.

_Finis_


End file.
